By Edwin Cooney
I'm forever writing about the significance of years in history! The year 1920 was truly one of those transitional years marking significant change in politics: Woodrow Wilson, the scholarly president crippled by a stroke and embittered by he defeat of his League of Nations in the U.S. Senate, was leaving office; women with their first vote, were a big boost to Ohio Senator Warren Harding's political ambition; and baseball learned in September of that year that the 1919 White Sox had thrown the World Series to the Cincinnati Reds. "Say it ain't so, Joe," one young fan is said to have shouted to Joe Jackson, the Sox's biggest star, outside of a Chicago courthouse. Unfortunately, it was so and the new baseball commissioner, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, would suspend Jackson and seven of his teammates from major league baseball for life. Then along came the 1920 World Series.
Officially, the 1920 World Series was between the Cleveland Indians and the Brooklyn Dodgers. However, baseball back then was as personal as it was professional. In fact, although there certainly was both form and structure to baseball, there was minimal formality about it. Both teams were known to their fans as the Cleveland Indians and the Brooklyn Robbins. Sure, “the Indians” was in fact their official name, but they were called Indians in honor of a former major league player, Louis Sockalexis, who played for the old Cleveland Spiders of the 1890s. Louis Sockalexis was a Penobscot Indian from Old Town, Maine whose brilliant career was rapidly ruined by alcohol after only about 94 games between 1897 and 1899. Sockalexis, a five foot eight left-handed batter, in just 94 games had 115 hits including twelve doubles, eight triples, three home runs, 65 rbi’s, a .315 batting average, an on-base percentage of .366, and a slugging percentage of .414. He was reported to have hurled a baseball from a water tower on Oak Hill Island on the Indian reservation territory of Old Town, Maine that hit the smoke stack of the Jordan, Maine lumber mill which was three-quarters of a mile away. Sockalexis was released by the Cleveland Spiders after just seven games of the 1899 season, the last year the Spiders existed in the National League. Louis Sockalexis died an alcoholic on December 24th, 1914 at the age of 43. A year or so after that, the Cleveland Naps needed a new name. There was a contest and the winning name, "The Cleveland Indians,” was suggested by a fan who remembered the incredible rookie of 1897.
As for the Brooklyn Dodgers (now the Los Angeles Dodgers) who may be in this week's fall classic, they were then called "The Brooklyn Robins" after their "lovable" manager Wilbert Robinson. He was known by his players and fans alike as "Uncle Robby.” Uncle Robby commanded respect, but he was also loved by his players. A former major league catcher, Uncle Robby had insisted over the years that he could catch a baseball dropped from an airplane. One day in 1917 during spring training, a newspaper man went up in an airplane as Uncle Robby circled with his catchers' mitt about 500 feet below. The only problem was that the newspaper man was armed with a grapefruit rather than a baseball. Other than knocking Uncle Robby on his bottom and spraying him with grapefruit juice there was no harm and little achieved except for a lot of laughs at Uncle Robby's expense. My guess is that you'll recognize the name of the ballplayer who is said to have arranged the prank on his manager. It was Charles Dillon (Casey) Stengel, a former dental student from Kansas City, Missouri. Uncle Robby later conceded that he might have been killed had it been a real baseball.
The year 1920 marked the Robins' second series and the first for the Indians. The two clubs were tied two games apiece on Sunday, October 10th at Cleveland's League Park. (Note: it was one of the last 5 out of 9 World Series that would ever be played.) Three extraordinary events happened that Sunday afternoon. First, Indian right-fielder Elmer Smith hit the first ever World Series grand slam home run in the first inning giving the Indians a four to nothing lead. In the fourth inning, starter Jim Bagby smacked a three run homer to make the score 7 zip. (Note that Bagby's homer was the first home run hit by a pitcher in World Series competition.)
However, the really dramatic history was made that day in the top of the fifth inning when Robbins second baseman Pete Kilduff began the inning with a single. Then, catcher Otto Miller followed with another single. With two men on and no one out, Uncle Robby sent pitcher Clarence Mitchell to the plate and decided to maximize a possible run-scoring opportunity by a hit and run play. Thus, as the Indians' Jim Bagby delivered his pitch to Mitchell, Kilduff took off for third and Miller dashed for second. Next came the crack of Mitchell's bat and a screaming line drive headed for second base. Bill Wambsganss dove to his right grabbing the ball before it hit the ground which put the batter out. Scrambling to his feet, Wambsganss stepped on second which eliminated Kilduff who was nearing third base. Next, Bill Wambsganss cocked his arm to throw the ball back to first, but shortstop Joe Sewell yelled for Wambsganss to tag Otto Miller. Wambsganss did just that resulting in an unassisted triple play. The crowd of 24,884 was silent for about ten seconds followed by thunderous cheers and Bill Wambsganss, the son of a Lutheran minister, became almost God-like in Cleveland, Ohio. The series ended two days later on Columbus Day as player manager Tris Speaker (known during his playing career as the “Gray Eagle”) triumphed over Uncle Robby's Robins. Both managers would, in years to come, be elected to baseball's Hall of Fame — Uncle Robby as a manager and Tris Speaker as an excellent center fielder and 300 plus hitter.
World Series glory for the Cleveland Indians hopefully eased the pain for the players who all suffered when their shortstop Ray Chapman became the first player to be killed on a professional baseball diamond. It happened the previous August 16th against the Yankees at the Polo Grounds in New York in the fifth inning of the game. Chapman, who often crowded home plate to reach pitches that might have been too outside of the plate to reach easily, was facing Carl Mays. The pitch bounced off Chapman's left temple back to Mays who tossed it to first baseman Wally Pipp. Chapman lay on his back bleeding from his ears. After a few minutes, with the assistance of a doctor from the stands, Ray Chapman started for the Indians clubhouse. He collapsed at second base and was carried the rest of the way. There, he again regained consciousness. While awake, he absolved Karl Mays of any blame for the incident. (Ray Chapman may have been the only one to absolve Mays; players, writers and most certainly fans piled blame on the beleaguered pitcher.) Taken to St. Lawrence Hospital, Raymond Johnson Chapman died some 12 hours later.
Hence, tragedy stalked the 1920 baseball season just as it does during this 2020 season. Fundamentally the same, this old and beloved game of ours serves the same need and gives the same gift as it gave a century ago.
Uncle Robby, Tris Speaker, Pete Kilduff, Otto Miller, Clarence Mitchell, Bill Wambsganss, and, of course, Ray Chapman and Louis Sockalexis are all an unforgettable part of our past just as time will make the stars of our day.
Baseball in 2020 will become an ancient but cherished memory sooner than most of us realize. That's why we must enjoy it while we may!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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